


The First

by WickedWitchInTheNorth



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Afterlife
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-22
Updated: 2017-08-22
Packaged: 2018-12-18 16:19:17
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,009
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11878227
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WickedWitchInTheNorth/pseuds/WickedWitchInTheNorth
Summary: Robb Stark is dead. The war is over and Robb has to be at peace at last.





	The First

_“Jaime Lannister sends his regards."_

Everything around him started to blur and he never felt such cold before. However, the coldness was not entirely unwelcome. A part of him felt even a little comforted. Winter was truly coming. And even though the coldness had already claimed his life and that of several of his loyal northern bannermen, he knew that it would come for all of his enemies as well. They would all remember. And then they would learn the true meaning of House Stark’s words. 

“Robb.”

For a brief moment he had been surrounded by darkness. But light returned, when the sound of his name reached his ears. He recognized this voice. Quiet and stern, with a hidden warmness. 

“Father.”

And there he was. Dark hair and long face just like he remembered. But Robb noticed quickly that he was not alone. Next to him was a man, who looked similar to his father. A bit more handsome and quite a bit younger, too. Forever young, Robb thought bitterly. Another young wolf, not unlike himself. Brandon Stark. 

Two steps behind him was an older man, who bore an uncanny resemblance to his uncle. Robb knew instantly that this was his grandfather. Rickard Stark. 

Robb’s mood grew even grimmer. He knew of their fates of course. Father and son died together. Murdered by the Mad King.  
His eyes went once more over the form of his father. He was also killed by a mad king. A different one, but their fates were eerily the same. 

And did Robb not die together with his mother? Mother and son. Father and son. Was there truly a difference? Was he meant to die like this? Did they upset the gods in the past somehow? Or were the gods just amusing themselves, arranging such morbidly related deaths for them?

“Robb.”

He turned around slowly. Red hair and blue eyes. Like his own. 

“Mother.”

His voice truly seemed to be more broken this time. But it did not matter to his mother. She closed the space between them without hesitation. His eyes started to sting, when she hugged him tightly. 

“I’m sorry.” 

This was all he managed to get out. And gods, he was. He made so many mistakes and so many had to pay the price for his blunders.  
His mother was one of them. 

“Shh! Don’t be,” she whispered in his ear and her arms tightened around him. “You have always made me proud. Some things are simply out of our hands.”  
Robb did not know if her words or her actions were responsible. But he slowly felt the warmth return to his body. 

“Cat.” 

Robb felt his mother stiffen. Her gaze went to her husband. Robb briefly wondered if they were even still married. They were both dead after all. And what about himself? Was he still married? He knew that Jeyne was a widow now. But what was he? He died a married man. But his wife could marry again after his death. It made his head ache. All he knew was that he was dead. A dead man called Robb Stark. He had no more ties to the living. 

“Ned.” 

His mother’s arms left his body and she moved towards his father. Eddard Stark met her halfway. They embraced each other and shared a kiss. And another one.  
Robb smiled softly. However, he looked away, when they made no move to separate any time soon. 

His eyes found a woman this time. A marvellous beauty. Some men would say a beauty worth fighting for. And they had, Robb thought darkly. Thousands had to die because of her. His aunt. Lyanna Stark. 

She reminded him a little of Arya. But mostly of his half-brother Jon. 

Robb did not know how she died. His father was always rather vague when it came to the circumstances surrounding her death. Perhaps she would be a little more forthcoming. Her smile seemed genuine enough. He wondered what would happen to his own sisters now that he was gone. Hopefully, they would not share the tragic fate that befell so many of the Starks in the last two decades. 

“Ned, where are my other boys? Where are Bran and Rickon?” 

Robb froze. His mother’s voice was shaking and it sounded like she was pleading. He did not know for what. Or maybe he did. Robb still clung to the hope too that they were alive. That Theon did not betray him in every cruel way possible. Robb couldn’t have been that much of a bad judge of character, right? Theon had sounded so earnest and sincere when he declared Robb his king. Robb snorted. Words are wind. He proved that himself when he broke his oath to the Freys. But the punishment Robb received was excessive in his opinion. 

_Maybe your punishment will be disproportionate too, Theon._

The answer of his father broke him out of his musings. 

“They are alive, Cat. They are alive.” 

His mother began to sob and Robb knew she was crying tears of joy, utterly relieved that her two little boys were still in the land of the living.  
Robb laughed and cried himself. He was the first. First born and first dead. Always the first.

Robb Stark, King in the North, King of the Trident, first of his name.

The first King in the North since Torrhen Stark bent the knee to Aegon Targaryen.

Robb smiled bitterly. He was also the King Who Lost the North. The first one. Torrhen may have given his crown away, but Robb had lost it all. The North, his home. The Boltons would take House Stark’s place and it was all his fault. 

Robb once again lost himself in his dark thoughts. His family tried in vain to rouse him. And then he heard it. 

A howl. 

Robb’s eyes widened. He would always recognise this howl.

He slowly turned his head to the right. 

And there he was. 

His direwolf. 

His friend. 

“Grey Wind.” 

And for the first time, Robb felt truly light-hearted.

**Author's Note:**

> I always wanted to write something about Robb Stark. There are probably many more stories that cover this kind of topic, but I never dared to read them myself. Some are probably very sad. And I hate crying.  
> This piece is supposed to be bittersweet and not overly sad. I hope it worked.  
> My writing skills have gotten rusty thanks to not using them in the last four years or so and English isn't my first language. Please let me know if something sounds strange or is completely wrong.  
> And thanks for giving it a try. :-)


End file.
